


Stag Dance

by Cahaya (Tarlaith)



Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: M/M, Open Relationship, Threesome - M/M/M, a party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2016-11-27
Packaged: 2018-09-02 16:21:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8674339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlaith/pseuds/Cahaya
Summary: A merry dance, topped off with a three-way. After all, they might be dead tomorrow.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I meant to post this ages ago and forgot. Oops.
> 
> Thanks to Random Interloper for beta-ing!  
> (Any mistakes still in there are my own.)

Around three on the fifth day, Emma Cullen bounded up the porch stairs to where Chisholm and Goodnight were sitting. Her boots left a trail of dirt and grass on the wood, and she was panting heavily as she stopped in front of them. Excitement reddened her cheeks. “Do you dance, Mr. Chisholm? Mr. Robicheaux?”

“Only when I have to,” Goodnight replied smoothly, blowing cigarette smoke out through his nose and quietly enjoying the raw burn. They had just been reminiscing about things better not looked back upon. But this was the silence before the big storm, and they both had seen enough battles to make the most of the calm. “Got somethin' on your mind, Mrs.?”

“Yes, I – oh, no, Mr. Chisholm, please don't stand up for me,” she said hastily and stepped back to lean against the slightly rattling railing of the porch. Not too far away from them, villagers were gathering in front of the chapel. “It's hard to believe that this was a bustling town barely one week ago,” she said slowly, watching two boys run by. Then she turned towards the men expectantly. “It's hard to be happy, with so few left.”

“You all will be again,” Chisholm reassured her, not quite catching on.

Emma cocked her head, and Goodnight smiled behind his cigarette. Her hair was down today and the wind gathered up a few strands, playing and tugging. She looked lovely, even as she brushed them out of her face with an impatient gesture. “If we all die, I want them to remember how it was. Bright and merry. If you don't mind.”

“He doesn't,” Goodnight replied instead of Chisholm. “A bit of distraction would do wonders for all of us.”

Emma beamed at them. “Thank you, both of you! I will tell the others, and we will start at candle-light.” She bolted down the stairs, hair flying behind her.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Chisholm turned to Goodnight. “A dance? Are you sure? The preparations –”

“Won't do any good without morale,” Goodnight finished. “Look around you: pale faces everywhere. The people need to be reminded of what they have here.” He rolled his eyes. “Maybe it'll even distract Faraday and Vasquez enough to stop bothering Billy about the knife-throwing. He's been... irritable.”

Chisholm shot him a measuring look, but didn't respond.

 

-

 

Irritable was quite an understatement. Billy was downright _annoyed_ and had threatened bloody murder twice already, but apparently neither Faraday nor Vasquez had gotten the message. Or, if they had, they didn't care. At least they were keeping each other occupied with their amiable animosity for the most part.

Goodnight and Billy snuck into the storehouse-turned-ballroom about half an hour after the party had started. Everyone was there already, including Red Harvest, who looked quite appalled at the jollity around him.

Someone – possibly Emma – had gone all out to make the interior as festive as possible. Every corner was illuminated by flickering lamps, and even though they did a mediocre job of keeping the night's darkness out, it was enough. A few men were playing merry songs on various instruments. In the farthest corner, a bar had been set up, and the booze was flowing. The younger boys were carrying plates with baked goods and sweets, stealing bites whenever they thought no one was looking.

Goodnight pointed to the bar. “Drink first or dance first?”

“With you?” Billy inquired, narrowing his eyes at Goodnight, who suppressed a sigh. This had been an ongoing discussion between them, ever since they arrived in Rose Creek.

“It's not that kind of party.”

Billy shrugged. “If we're paying the boatman tomorrow, we should enjoy it while we can.”

“The little things,” Goodnight agreed. “I don't plan to die.”

They went to the bar and ordered two bottles of beer – better keep it light for the moment, in case either wanted to give it a whirl later. Once they were settled in a quiet corner – thank whoever had thought to bring chairs – Billy nudged him. “Pays to be prepared.”

Goodnight knew that look and quietly shook his head. They had decided early on that it was too dangerous to show their closeness around other people.

“This might be our last night,” Billy pointed out.

That was true, and it was grating on Goodnight. But on the off-chance that they survived the End of the World, he didn't want to swap his then freshly won freedom for a California collar. “Still no.”

For a moment, Billy looked hurt by the rejection – so much it almost made Goodnight change his mind – but then the corners of his lips turned into a mirthless smirk. “You'll excuse me?” He tipped the brim of his hat and stepped onto the dance-floor, beer in hand.

Goodnight leaned back in his chair, amused and faintly disappointed at once. He didn't really think Billy stood a chance with the recently widowed women from Rose Creek. And the young men... well, they were far too much like Teddy Q: determined, god-fearing workers.

With music and drink flowing, time passed quickly. Goodnight settled back into his chair, letting it lull him into a drowsy state of complete relaxation. A cat strolled by, drawn by the flickering lights, and stretched out in a corner beneath the table.

He had almost fallen asleep, when a sudden rap on the table started him awake. Chisholm grinned down at him. “Not dancing?”

“Wouldn't want to impose this drunken body on any lady,” Goodnight said, yawning, and contemplated if it would be rude to ask a _black_ lieutenant to get him another beer.

Chisholm huffed out a gruff laugh, like a horse snuffling. “Mind if I sit down?” He didn't wait for an answer, simply flopped down into the empty chair with a groan. Then he leaned forward, eyes serious. “Can I ask you something?”

“Be my guest,” Goodnight smirked. “When have you gotten shy?”

“You and Billy are...,” he trailed off, looking to the dancefloor. For a moment, Goodnight was sincerely sorry that he couldn't see a black man blush. Sadly, he knew Chisholm probably wasn't, anyway.

“Me and Billy are what?”

“Very close.”

 _Figured that he'd work it out_ , Goodnight thought, feeling oddly unbothered. He'd known Chisholm for a long time, and he was fairly sure they were much too important to spare in the upcoming battle, so he merely shrugged. “It can get lonely, out there. Problem?”

“No.” Chisholm shook his head. “Why don't you dance with him? No need to impose on any lady if you're... taken.”

 _Nice choice of words_. Goodnight laughed. “Stepping on his foot is more dangerous.” He had the scars to prove it, too. Billy's natural grace translated almost seamlessly into dancing, but it didn't help his patience – or lack thereof.

Thinking of Billy, Goodnight suddenly realized what that lingering feeling of disappointment was: he _missed_ him. He took a look around, but couldn't spot the quiet Asian anywhere.

“But worth the effort?” Chisholm asked.

“Yes,” Goodnight said, more to himself, still looking. Billy was probably the most important person in the world. And suddenly, he knew where he had to be. He got up, wincing as he realized that his legs had fallen asleep. Swaying slightly, he waited for the prickling to abate, then excused himself.

Chisholm looked like he wanted to say something, but thought better of it. Instead, he said: “Billy just left with Faraday.”

 

-

 

Faraday. Of all people available at that party, it had to be the most insolent skirt-chaser. Of course, Goodnight reckoned. Billy never did things by half.

Goodnight slipped out of the ballroom as quietly as possible, using a bale of straw for cover. Cold night's air hit his face, making him shiver. He waited until his eyes got used to the darkness and took a careful look around. If he read Billy correctly – and he always did – he wanted to be followed, which meant he would leave some kind of trail.

Something like a knife, lodged deeply into the adjacent house's outer wall. _Not very subtle here_. Goodnight eyed the path it indicated, which didn't lead to anywhere remotely comfortable. It didn't lead anywhere, period, unless they had taken a detour. Because out there was just a corral and a ladder up to... _oh, Billy_.

Goodnight was torn between a chuckle and a groan. Poor Faraday.

Silently, he made his way around the house and past a half-finished trench. The further he got from the amber glow of the storehouse-door, the brighter the stars became. Bright enough to safely guide him past any forgotten shovel or hole in the ground. He turned around the corner and climbed over the fence of the corral that was directly connected to the wall, then approached the ladder. Another knife lay forgotten in the grass below it.

Goodnight took a quick look around to make sure he hadn't been followed and then he climbed the ladder. As he got to the hatch, he could hear a soft rustling sound. It could be either straw or cloth... maybe a belt? He strained his ears. Definitely cloth.

Someone moaned, but the sound was muffled. Faraday, most likely. Without further ado, Goodnight pushed open the hatch and climbed inside.

The smell of dried grass greeted him, the panting sounds louder than the music floating up from below. The moon's silver glow fell through the roof-light and illuminated two figures huddled on the hay. One of them – Faraday – was on his back, almost naked: vest and shirt open, half down his upper arms, trousers gone completely. The other – indeed Billy, fully clothed including his hat – knelt over him, lazily running his tongue up and down Faraday's saliva-glistening cock.

Neither noticed Goodnight entering, and he allowed himself a moment to enjoy the view. He was still disgruntled that Billy had taken off without him, despite the rejection. Because they both knew that if he'd really tried, Goodnight's resolve would have crumbled like a dry biscuit beneath a hammer. This was shameless provocation, and it needed to be punished.

Clicking his heels extra loudly, Goodnight approached the couple.

Faraday looked up first, eyes widening as he recognized him. “Oh, shit!” He grabbed for his guns, but his belt was lost somewhere, probably right beside his missing pants. Realization hit hard, and his face contorted in fear.

Billy, on the other hand, just shot a quick, uninterested glance in Goodnight's direction and bend down further, sucking all of Faraday's engorged cock into his mouth. The unspoken 'make yourself useful' hung in the air between them, anyway.

Smirking, Goodnight drew his gun. Faraday let out a startled yelp and frantically knocked Billy's hat away to pull at his hair and somehow dislodge him, to get more space to move, but Billy just gripped his hips and pressed them down, keeping him still.

Like a frightened deer, Faraday stared up at Goodnight, who walked over and let his weapon glide down into the hay just out of his reach. “You know, Faraday, you're quite charming when you keep your mouth shut.”

“W-what?”

Goodnight snorted. “I knew it was too good to last.”

“Wha – _ohh_ , fuck, Rocks!” Faraday groaned, letting his head loll back. “Damn, you're good with your tongue.”

Without meaning to, Goodnight's gaze flickered down to Billy, who shot him a dirty look. His tongue darted out beside the head of Faraday's red cock. Goodnight swallowed down a moan of his own. “Stop being a tease, I'm here already.”

Billy hummed non-committally. Faraday, feeling the vibration, flopped back down into the straw with a curse.

Goodnight, already hot all over, quickly removed his jacket and vest, and bent down to gingerly tug out Billy's hairpin. Black hair cascaded over his shoulders and into his face, soft as silk. Pressing just so, Goodnight trailed his fingers down Billy's broad back, all the way to his impatiently raised butt. He gave it a squeeze. A shudder went through that whipcord body, muscles tensing under skin and cloth.

Sinking to his knees behind Billy, Goodnight placed his hands on the black-clad thighs, before slipping around front to open his belt. Feeling lucky, he reached between Billy's legs to rub the obvious arousal there. The cotton was stretched taut and slightly damp.

Billy growled and Faraday whimpered, undoubtedly just having gotten a scratch of teeth. The sound was more pleasure than pain, but Goodnight decided that for the sake of Faraday's manly bits, he'd better stop teasing. Or maybe...

Goodnight worked open Billy's fly and pulled his shirt out of his pants. Hot skin greeted his fingertips and its softness called up memories; images of how lovely Billy looked with a flush on his face; taken by lust and coming all over himself. Goodnight's already stiff cock twitched and he pushed up Billy's shirt to lick down his spine, tasting salt. He hooked two fingers into Billy's pants and pulled them as far down as they would go, bunching at his knees.

Then Goodnight placed his teeth on Billy's hip, and this time, the muffled moan was more audible. Smiling, Goodnight kept sucking that one spot, imagining the skin blooming red. Billy was not the type to squirm, but he wriggled a little, coming alive beneath the touch.

Once Goodnight was satisfied – working on instinct, since it was too dark to see much – he sat up. “Slick?”

Billy pulled off with a popping sound, said “pocket” and went back down again without further explanation.

Goodnight rolled his eyes at the spite and started with the pants. He found a few coins and a crumbled cigarette paper, but not the familiar little bottle of whatever oily concoction Billy always managed to conjure up for their nighttime activities. Annoyed, he swatted Billy's rump. “Not here.”

“Here.” Something clattered to the floor beside Goodnight, and, over the top of Billy's head, Faraday shot him a grin. “Nicked it from him earlier, that's why he fo– _ahhh_ , son of a–” 

Goodnight smirked and coated his finger's with oil. It warmed quickly to the touch, running over his skin like honey. “You need to watch your fingers, boy.”

“Tell that to –” the rest of it ended in an expletive that had even Goodnight chuckle in surprise, and he was already intimately acquainted with Billy's filthy mouth... and tongue.

Speaking of, the subject of their combined attention was getting impatient. For Billy, it was all about the fast thrill. He rocked back, bumping his butt into Goodnight's belly. Unceremoniously, Goodnight shoved the first finger into Billy's ass, not giving the muscle a second to tense up against the intrusion. It clenched around him all the harder for it. Somewhere above him, Faraday yelped.

“Shh.” Goodnight soothed, using his other hand to fondle Billy's balls. He knew how much pleasure Billy got from this rough treatment, his rock hard cock proved it, but he was also stubborn enough _not_ to tell when it became too much. Goodnight always took care to ease Billy into it, otherwise this wouldn't be enjoyable for any of them. He was secretly very proud that Billy trusted him enough to give himself over like this – freely and without fear.

Gently, his finger massaged Billy's inner walls, feeling around for that one special spot that made him shiver. He quickly found the round protrusion, but avoided it after a few tender strokes. Billy quivered around him.

Faraday was groaning unabashedly now, high pitched sounds that indicated he was close.

 _Time to get the show on the road_ , Goodnight thought, pulled out and carefully inserted a second finger. From personal experience he knew that the initial stretch always hurt, but Billy arched beneath him like he'd been waiting for this.

Suddenly, Goodnight felt his other hand, which was still lazily stroking Billy, begin to dampen. As he drew back, he could see the glitter of clear fluid on them. “Someone's impatient.”

“Hell, yes!” Faraday shouted, remembering only at the last second to cover his mouth. “Damn, this is so ho– hey! Come back!” His indignant exclamation ended in a mewl of protest.

Billy ignored him, looking over his shoulder, black hair blessedly mussed, falling into his face, sharply contrasted by moonlight. The fire in his eyes took Goodnight's breath away. “I'm ready,” he said, somewhat hoarsely from that much cock in his mouth, and rocked back against him.

“That's for me to judge,” Goodnight pointed out, thrusting in again.

Faraday, now watching their every move, moaned.

Far less impressed, Billy jerked his leg and kicked Goodnight in the shin. Yowling, he pulled out his fingers. “Okay, fine.” He opened his slacks and drew in a relieved breath as his painfully hard erection finally sprang free. He stroked himself a few times, enjoying the sparks that prickled down his spine. Then he met Billy's eyes again, now ablaze with impatience. Goodnight grinned lazily. “But if you want this, you do as I say.”

Billy rolled his eyes. Probably the most of an acquiescence Goodnight was going to get.

“Spread your legs a little more. And get down on your elbows.” Goodnight waited until Billy assumed the position, cock throbbing at the rather magnificent sight. “Now, suck Faraday back in. I want you to bring him off before I'm all in.”

Over his shoulder, Billy shot him a scathing look. Then he took Faraday by the hips and swallowed him down. Grinning, Goodnight gently pulled Billy's cheeks apart and lined himself up against the soft, slightly swollen pucker. Then, oh so slowly, he sank in, heat surrounding him like the heart of a fire.

Bliss.

Billy whimpered around his mouthful. His hands grabbed frantically at Faraday's thighs, who pulled at Billy's hair in response. Then his head fell back and he sighed, long and deep, eyes closed. Billy stilled, drinking it up, while Goodnight patiently bottomed out.

When Billy finally drew back his head to moan, semen dribbled down his chin. His eyes were glazed over, and he looked close to bursting himself.

Goodnight drew back out slowly and rocked back in, aiming, pleased when he didn't encounter any resistance. Billy jerked hard enough to hit his head on Faraday's thigh, his fingers scrabbling on the wooden planks beneath them.

Goodnight wound his arm around Billy's waist and pulled him up, flush against his chest. He gave another thrust, and felt Billy go pliant against him – warm, willing flesh, open to be used. This was always his favorite part: when Billy lost himself in the riptide of pleasure Goodnight incited within him, when his sharp wit and gruff manners disappeared and he teetered on the edge, only capable of taking, not giving. He knew he was the only one to ever bring out this side of Billy, because with other men, sex was just a quick fumble to completion. If Goodnight hadn't joined in, Billy and Faraday would already be back down there, drinking like nothing happened.

Billy tensed around him, gritting his teeth against the groan, clinging to the moment. Goodnight kissed his neck, murmuring praises in French and the few Korean endearments he knew, “you're doing so good” and “god, you're beautiful”.

Billy's head fell back onto Goodnight's shoulder. He started panting openly, the loudest he ever got in bed. Eyes clenched shut, he pressed his palms to Goodnight's thighs, almost grabbing, not quite sure if he could trust not to be abandoned by the man that held him.

As if Goodnight ever would. He rutted up sharply and closed the hand that was not steadying Billy around his hard shaft, giving a decisive tug.

Billy grunted and came, tightening around him beautifully, finger's digging into Goodnight's skin. Spurts of white semen splashed onto the hay and Faraday's legs. He didn't notice, transfixed by the spectacle before him. “Damn,” he mumbled. “I wish I could get hard again.”

Goodnight stilled his hips, which took some effort, but he knew how sensitive Billy got and this was their first indulgence in a long time. He didn't want to hurt him, and Billy needed to be able to move tomorrow.

They sat like that for a few moments, breathing in unison, Billy's whole form relaxed, riding out the fading orgasm. All that beautiful muscle and grace languidly spilled over Goodnight.

He ran a soothing hand up Billy's side. He could feel the slight tremor in his body. Billy sighed and stretched like a cat, unselfconscious, but took care not to dislodge Goodnight inside him. Then he blinked, eyes glinting feverish from passion. “Are you planning to wait until I'm ready again?”

He squeezed.

“I had – _ohhh_ – rather hoped you'd let me finish right now.” Damn, Billy fit him like a glove, and Goodnight groaned into his neck at the next squeeze. He couldn't help thrusting upwards a bit, any friction pure bliss.

“Since you asked so nicely,” Billy deadpanned.

“Lean forward,” Goodnight said, pushing him up to support his own weight. “This won't take long.”

“No,” Billy agreed. “It won't.” He did as asked and placed his hands on Faraday's knees. The gambler licked his lips. “You two are really kinky.”

“You've seen nothing,” Goodnight grit out, burying his nose in Billy's hair, breathing his warmth. “You should see him when he wants something.”

Billy gave another vicious squeeze, then slid half off the cock inside him. “Are you done?”

“Getting there.” Goodnight gripped his hips and brought him down again. Billy moaned in protest, but didn't struggle. Just a few more thrusts were enough and he came, white-hot flames sizzling all through him. He held Billy still until his orgasm subsided, until the blinding ecstasy bled into bone-deep relaxation. Then he carefully slid out.

Billy hummed. “Wet.”

He was right, he was dripping with it. Goodnight reached out and pushed a finger back in to make it stop.

This time, it was Billy's turn to smirk. Just a slight curl of his oh-so-kissable lips, but it made Goodnight's heart skip a beat. Right, that's what was missing. Those _lips_. Although he remembered Billy's lips being rather too occupied for any extracurricular activities.

Billy turned to Faraday, whom Goodnight had all forgotten about. “Long day tomorrow. You better get back to the others.”

Faraday's eyes widened and he stared down between his legs. “Shit! Do you think they noticed? They'll... fuck, they'll...”

“Go to the whorehouse. Not all of them are gone. No one asks if you entertain a lady and pay for it.”

Goodnight heard the emphasis on “pay for it” clearly. Absentmindedly, he used the fingers that were not plugging up Billy's hole right now to rub the already dripped out semen into the soft skin of his perineum.

Faraday jumped to his feet. “Right! Thanks man, that was awesome!” And with that, he bounded to the hatch, pulling his trousers and belt from behind a haystack as he went. He stopped dead at the ladder. Insecurity played across his features. “You... won't tell anyone, right?”

Billy shook his head.

“I won't if you won't,” Goodnight said. “Soldier's honor.”

Relieved and grinning broadly, Faraday slipped out into the night.

Billy turned to Goodnight and leaned in for a kiss. Goodnight met him eagerly, opening up, rubbing their tongues together in wet caresses. Drawing back, Billy scrutinized him. “'Soldier's honor'?”

“The 'whore house'?”

“He already smelled of sex.”

Goodnight shrugged. “If the shoe fits. Do you... want to go back, too? Think they'll miss us?”

“The townspeople would rather have us running free than Faraday,” Billy said, indifferent.

“That's true,” Goodnight laughed. “Another go?”

“Only if I can face you this time.” Billy kissed him again and relaxed into Goodnight's arms, who chuckled.

“Are you sure that's enough? I could bind your hands to that post over there, just to be sure. Let you squirm on one finger until you _beg_ for it?” he challenged, voice dropped low and seductive.

Billy blushed and admirably deep shade of crimson. Who would've thought there was this much blood left for it when Goodnight could already see it directed elsewhere?

“Facing you suffices,” Billy whispered.

“I'm glad.” Goodnight pushed the finger in deeper. “But it'll be a while until I'm up for it again. Want to fuck me in the meantime? Then we'll both be dripping spunk tomorrow.”

Billy pulled a face. “No, thanks.”

“Well, then,” Goodnight drawled and nudged the tiny bump that made Billy jump. “Looks like I have to keep you entertained for a while, my beautiful southern belle.”

“If you ever call me that again, I'll rip your balls off.”

“Then you'll have no one to fuck you how you like it.”

“I'm sure Faraday is teachable.”

“Whatever you say, darlin'.”


End file.
